Thinking the Right Way
by RavenclawGenius
Summary: HGCD: Cedric knows it's silly, but he can't help himself.


"You've fallen for _Granger_? Potter's best friend, the one the _Prophet's_ after? Are you barking _mad_?" Kiera Barnes hissed.

"I know! I know, okay?" Cedric scraped his hands through his hair, entirely aware that he was stressed _and_ barking mad. "I just – have you seen her?" He huffed defensively. "Sharp as a whip, that one is. Not a thing she doesn't catch. And did you see how she helped Potter with the tasks? Didn't stop a second to catch up on sleep, Kiera."

"Have you ever even _talked_ to her? I mean, Merlin, Ced… she's not exactly one of those types that people line up to be seen with," Kiera sat back in her seat, stunned.

"Yes I've talked to her," Cedric said indignantly. "Not a lot, but I just figure she's not fond of new people. Would make sense, wouldn't it? People haven't exactly been _kind_ to her," he said pointedly.

Kiera blushed vehemently. "I didn't mean it that way, Ced. Just… I mean, it could be completely untrue, but you've read _The Prophet_. She's already got two blokes, two of the other _champions_ to top things off. I don't think you should be hanging around with the likes of that, even if it isn't true. Your father would _flip_, can you just imagine your _mother_?"

Cedric winced. He'd thought about it. He'd thought about it _often_, actually. His father was obscenely proud of his son, a lot of times when he'd done nothing to merit it, and would _not_ appreciate if he starting flooring Potter's best mate when she had all this rubbish hanging over her head. Cedric's mother wanted what was best for him, and she was willing to acknowledge that _The Prophet_ was garbage, but she would be upset with him for setting his sights on _anyone_ while so close to his NEWT year – let alone one of the few girls whose drama could actually amount to something.

"I think you should think about this, Ced. I'm not saying it'd be bad for you, and she'd be lucky to catch you, but tread carefully, please?" Kiera gathered her things together. She hesitated a moment before kissing the crown of his head lightly. "I don't want to see you hurt."

How had he gotten himself mixed up in this mess? He'd only noticed Granger for the first time at the World Cup, and only then because of the fury in her eyes when his dad boasted about the Quidditch match in the year before. She'd held her tongue, of course, displaying restraint in spades, and that had been that. He hadn't been able to take his eyes off of her since.

No, she wasn't beautiful by the book standards, but the way her eyes changed from brown to gold when she was angry was interesting, her frizzy brown hair added character, the creamy flesh of her skin was smooth and – he imagined – very soft, and she wasn't lacking in curves, either, if one paid attention enough to notice.

And Cedric paid very close attention.

She wasn't a classic beauty, but certain parts of her exceeded expectations, you just had to see past the somewhat bossy exterior to get to them.

Speak of the devil.

He wasn't ready to _see_ her! He'd just told his closest friend that he _liked_ her and now he had to _think_. How was he supposed to _think_ when she stood that close? He could smell her bloody hair for Merlin's sake! Damn if vanilla had ever smelt so bloody good! What was she _doing_ here?

_It's the library, Cedric,_ he reminded himself. _She's here all the time._

Stay calm. That's what he had to do – he had to stay calm. He glanced down at his Potions book, unable to bring himself back to his essay. He pretended to read it anyway, but his sights kept shifting up to her, reaching up to a higher shelf for a book that she couldn't reach.

He could do this. He could approach her. Yeah, he'd done that before. He didn't have to tell her that he'd fallen head over arse for her. He could talk. They said he was charming, didn't they? Surely he wasn't so awful at it.

He cleared his throat softly to steel himself, but succeeded in grabbing her attention at the same time. Her lips tugged back to form a slightly embarrassed grin. "Sorry," she said softly. "I'll be quieter."

_Way to go, Ced._

"I meant to ask – I wondered if you needed help?" Smooth talker, he was. He could have smacked himself for the stutter.

"If you don't mind," Hermione said gratefully, moving out of his way, pointing to the second highest shelf. "_A Guide to Medieval Sorcery_."

"You know, Granger," he stood up on his own toes, astonished that she thought she could reach this, standing a full six inches shorter than he, at least, "you do attend a school with _magic_. You could've levitated it down."

Hermione blushed.

Cedric had meant to tease her; it didn't occur to him that she might be offended by the comment. "Sorry," he asserted quickly. "I didn't mean to insult. Just a joke."

She nodded curtly, accepted the book as he handed it to her, and gave him a cursory smile that looked as forced as his own did when his father sang him praises as she hurried back to her own table.

He frowned and strode back to his books, slipping his essay inside his Potions text and closing it inside. He tucked the book inside of his bag, and shouldered it.

What had he done?

Merlin, couldn't he catch a _break_? He wanted her attention, not her ire, not directed at _him_ anyway. He had to pass her table to leave the library, and he focused a lot of effort on not looking down at her as he did so. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he turned around and scooted the spare seat away from wooden table and plopped himself into it.

"What did I say?" He asked firmly, attempting to catch her eye, but she continued to dart her gaze between her book and essay – Transfiguration, he noted.

"Granger?" He called out finally, a touch annoyed that she ignored him.

She jumped in her seat to look at him, surprise sketched across her face. "What are you _doing_?" She questioned sharply. "You almost gave me a _heart attack!_"

Amused and besotted, Cedric smiled indulgently. "I've been here a few minutes, Granger."

A blush ran from the tips of her ears and down her neck, drawing Cedric's attention down to the V of her school top to watch the skin heat down her chest, too. He closed his eyes, hoping she didn't see, and swallowed roughly. He _needed_ to stop looking down if he had any hopes of finishing this conversation.

"So," he breathed, putting a valiant effort into lifting his eyes to look at her. She had focused on the table to avoid embarrassment. "Ah, what was it that I said?"

"What?" Hermione frowned adorably.

"Before," he motioned toward the bookcase, "when I was fetching your book. You brushed me off."

"Oh," Hermione said, and blew out a sigh. She tucked her hair behind her ear and bit her lip, before giving in and answering. "It's not exactly something you said. I'm a muggleborn, Diggory, and most often, unless I'm in a classroom or in battle, it's natural for me to do things by hand," she shrugged, head bent low. "I don't think the way I should, is all."

Cedric could see how hard it was for her to say that, but he didn't understand. "Who says there's a wrong way to think?" He cocked his head to the side curiously.

"Don't," Granger looked up sharply, startling him.

His brows furrowed together in confusion.

"It _is_ the wrong way to think," she shook her head futilely. "You don't understand. Wizards are typically brought up around magic, it's just the odd ducks like me who are thrust into it. It's just that muggleborns have more to prove. I don't mean that to sound bigoted, it's just how things are. Yes, I was raised a muggle, and I'm proud of that, but I _live_ as a witch. It frustrates me sometimes that I don't act like it."

"Is _that_ what you think?" Cedric gaped incredulously. "Granger, I'm not even being cheeky or boosting your confidence when I say that you're one of the brightest witches I've ever met. You don't have to do _everything_ the wizard way, you just have to react the right way in a bad situation. Other than that, I don't really see that it matters how you do the simple stuff."

"But it does!" She exclaimed, clearly upset. The gold in her eyes was back and captured Cedric's undivided attention. "You don't _get_ it. People look at you oddly. _You_ looked at me oddly, and you're the one trying to convince me that it's alright to act the way I do. I can handle odd looks, but people _say_ things about it. It's not just awkward, Diggory, it's right humiliating."

He hadn't looked at her oddly, had he?

"And besides the words, the tone is patronizing. It's not intentional," she rushed to say, "not unless it's Malfoy or his cronies. It's just – It's _there_."

Cedric looked at her intently, not breaking eye contact with her. He hoped that she wouldn't be this upset with him again, but it would be worth it, he thought, if he got to see her eyes glint that way. "I'd wager," he said firmly, "that I'd be hard-pressed to find a witch quite as intelligent as you, Granger. I don't think there's a damn thing wrong with the way you think, or the way you are."

If the flush of her skin had ever disappeared, it was back with a vengeance. "Yes, well… I appreciate it," she said stiffly.

"You don't take compliments well," Cedric observed quietly. "Why?"

Hermione sighed, annoyed. "Look at me, Cedric," she said blankly, but his name on her tongue sounded so… _exquisite_. And look at her? What'd she think he'd been doing for the past few months? He'd _been_ looking at her. His face must have expressed his befuddlement, so she continued. "I'm not the kind of girl who is often on the receiving end of compliments."

"Why?" He was a ruddy idiot, he was. She was looking at him as though she thought he was off his bleeding rocker.

She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. "I'm Harry Potter's mousy, intelligent best friend. I'm alright with that, Diggory. I'm proud to be Harry's friend. But please, don't act like you don't see the rest of it."

"But I _do_ see the rest of it," Cedric said quickly, not caring for the way she was so accepting of her own cynicism. "You're not _mousy_! You're just overshadowed by silly boys who are much more noticeable. They _make_ themselves known. Even if Potter weren't famous, he doesn't do much to keep himself out of trouble, and Weasley's always jumping for any opportunity to be in the spotlight. They're your best friends; I respect that, I do. But they're not just that, they're your shield to hide behind."

"I don't _hide_," Hermione said, affronted. "How dare you assume to know me that way!"

"That's not what I _meant_," Cedric growled, reverting back to tugging at his hair. "I'm saying this _wrong_. Harry and Ron are good blokes, and – if Kiera's sense is anything to go by – they're not bad looking, either. You're not plain, Hermione, I just don't think you want to be seen."

"Why would you think that?" She was wary of him, but she wasn't shouting.

"Because you don't want to change for people to like you better," Cedric muttered. "Because you'd rather be known as Harry and Ron's best friends, because that's something you _are_, and even if it's not all of who you are, it's part of it. And that way you don't have to risk other people rejecting you for everything else, but I wish you wouldn't, because not everyone's that cruel."

He ended with a clear note of desperation. He was sure that she knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to lift the tone to sound more cheerful.

"Are you saying that everyone isn't, or that you aren't?" Hermione asked thoughtfully.

Cedric knew that it wasn't just a question, it was acknowledgement. She was recognizing that he was right, and she was conceding defeat. "I suppose I can't rightfully speak for anyone else," he said playfully, and was he _flirting_?

She laughed, a vibrant sound that sounded so much different and so much _better_ than the dainty giggles of all the other girls he knew. "I suppose you can't, no. I do wonder when you started to shape these theories, though, Diggory."

Bugger.

"Erm… I just – " Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit_.

She looked mirthful. No, scratch that, she looked right amused at his expense. He drew his brows together. "You _knew_?"

"You haven't exactly been subtle with it," she murmured lightly, brushing her hair behind her ear again, nervously. "You stare a lot. It's a little uncomfortable, actually."

"You _knew_!" He was utterly flabbergasted. "That's the absolute _worst_ sort of torture you could have put me through, Granger!"

"Well you could've ended it just as easily as I could've," Hermione protested. "Besides, what sort of idiot would I have looked like if you said I was absolutely barmy and had no _clue_ what I was talking about? You pinned the tail on the donkey's arse, Diggory; I rather fear rejection. What reason would I have to openly set myself up for it?"

Cedric shuffled in his chair, completely uprooted. "And," he cleared his throat again, this time more out of nervousness than for any real purpose, "do you – am I wasting my time?" He settled finally.

_There._ That wasn't too direct, not too presumptuous.

"No," Hermione admitted, a touch of a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "No, I don't think you are."

Cedric was capable of recognizing relief for what it was, thank you very much, and knew that he'd just experienced an abundance of it at once. "Granger, you – get up," he demanded, incapable of forming the appropriate words.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"Get up," he ordered again, anxious, hauling himself out of his chair, too. "Don't ruin it, Granger, just get up."

She obeyed, if somewhat hesitantly, and he didn't wait for his courage to disappear. His lips were on hers less than a heartbeat after she'd stood, her back pressed gently against the table. It should have been awkward, because it was her first kiss and those typically were uncomfortable.

It wasn't.

Her lips moved just as actively as his. The kiss was soft, and he even managed to sneak his tongue into her mouth briefly before withdrawing it. For a shy bookworm, she was one hell of a kisser, and – _Merlin_ – was that _her_ tongue prying past his lips, licking against his mouth to ask permission? Hell, she thought he'd reject her _now_?

He moved his tongue to touch hers, the only way he could think of to tell her that hell _yes_ it was bloody okay without actually breaking away from her to say it.

Hermione was amused, he could tell, because she smiled against his mouth and fought to reign in a giggle. She managed it successfully, too curious to stop investigating the caverns of his mouth. He could _not_ believe she'd known he'd fancied her all these months and hadn't said a thing. They could've done this _ages_ ago.

Tongues chased tongues, and they made a sport out of it, entirely oblivious to the few Ravenclaws that were watching them, chuckling in their direction.

"Cedric, I – " Kiera's voice finally struck him and he broke away from Hermione, grinning as she sighed contentedly. "Holy _shit_! Cedric, when I said think about it, I'm fairly sure that wasn't what I meant."

He shifted under her scrutiny, but smiled sheepishly as he replied, "I did things my way this go around."

"_Clearly_," Kiera huffed, but laughter colored through and she gave him a quick hug. "Carry on, please," she giggled lightly. "I just left my cloak. I'll go fetch it, shall I?"

"Fantastic," Hermione muttered, tugging Cedric by his tie to fuse her lips to his, taking command over the kiss, and Cedric quickly found that he didn't mind that, not at _all_.

- - - -

Author's Note: Alright, so I was reading a couple of Cedrione fics and I started typing away at a one-shot of my own. Here's the finished product. Hope you enjoyed it! Please review! : )


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